Truth
by ThePersonWithTheReallyLongName
Summary: We all know that Gotham isn't real, however Boston is.  When poor Jackie Caputo goes there on a school trip she meets a certain borwn eyed rich boy, and all hell breaks loose. Roughly based off of BATMAN OC/OC


Everyone knows the story of the Batman, and everyone knows Christian Bale plays the batman in the newest movie series, but if you know anyone who loves the batman series as much as my brother then you would know Gotham is based off of Boston. A real place, actually the Mother city of America, say what you want but it's true. Sadly enough, Boston also just happens to be the place where I was visiting for a school field trip. My performing arts class got the permission to go watch The Producers in Boston along with everyone else in any Performing Arts Classes that wished to go.

"Don't you just love Boston?" My friend Opal said while chewing on a piece of octopus she bought from China town three minutes ago.

"It's only enjoyable when there's a game between us and any Canadian team; and even then only when someone is amazingly drunk." I stated sitting on the cool stone bench in the middle of a park. I think it's safe to say we were pretty damn lost. We jumped away from our class mates to go explore the wonder new culture of China town. She was shopping for tasty foods, and I was shopping for sexy Asian boys. Figures how she got what she wanted and I got nothing. "What was the name of the theater again?" Opal just shrugged and went back to eating ripping open a new bag of Jell-O snacks.

"Oh these are really good!"Opal cried as she popped a jell-O shot in her mouth. I grabbed one out the plastic bag and tried to open it.

"I swear you have to be at least half Ninja to open these things." The aluminum covering wouldn't come off the top of the jell-O shot. I dug into the pocket of my jeans to grab a pen I picked out of my purse before getting on the bus to come here.

"I'm not Ninja,"

"You're half Chinese, that's close enough." Stabbing the aluminum cover with the tale of the pen cap, the jell-O exploded all over my jeans and my purple hoodie. "Do they teach you how to open these things when you're a baby or are you just born with the ability?"

"Born with the ability."

"I hate you,"

"I love you too, Jackie." I fake glared at her before walking over to the hotdog vendor and stealing a few napkins. Wiping me clean of green apple flavoring and grumbling I bumped into someone mumbled an apology before grumbling again.

"God I hate my life."

"You do realize that you just bumped into an amazingly sexy guy right."

"Well on account that YOU think he's sexy he must be not Asian. Not interested."

"You're so racist," I shrugged, it's true. I mean it's not like it's a bad racist; as Avenue Q sings "Everyone's a little bit racist today." The only way I'm racist is I adore all that is Asian. Notice how my best friend is half Asian.

"You are too, he's probably Irish."

"What gave it away?"

"We're in Southy." I said adding in a false Boston accent. "Now dear I need to take a bauth," I giggled. Opal just rolled her eyes at me and opened up a new container. "We really do need to find the theater." She stuffed the rest of her jell-O bag into her purse and stood up. I'm amazed that she even thought about bringing a purse, I didn't of course, purses are annoying and they'll just get stolen in seconds anyway. I think the only reason why she still has hers is because everyone around probably assumes that she'll cut them. Which is so not true, however she does bite, and when she bites she won't stop biting until she draws blood. She's vicious.

"Well it would help if we knew what the theater was called."

"I bet if we find a gay guy he'll know what we're talking about."

"I doubt it. I don't speak gay." I looked at her dead pan. I couldn't even believe she just said that.

"You ARE gay." That's a half truth, she's bi-sexual, but you would never guess it, she leans towards guys and never mentions anything about girls. Ever. I honestly keep forgetting she's bi.

"No, I'm Bi. There's a difference." I shook my head at her and went up to the least sketchy looking person I could find leaving Opal standing at the bench. That person just happened to be a woman in a pencil skirt, she had that bitchy air about her as if she didn't have time to bother with me. Of course since I have a built in Bitch Radar I went straight to her instead of the person that was seven feet away from her holding a book silently reading.

"Excuse me ma'am. Do you know how to get to the Theater from here?" She just stormed right past me her cup of Starbuck's coffee nearly dumping all over me. "Well thanks for nothing…."

"Boston Theater is just around the corner, follow the banners and you'll get there." The person reading the book stated not even looking up. The Person happened to be a guy in his early twenties with nearly black eyes and black hair that made his skin seem white, and by white I mean white. As in he could pass as a vampire white.

"Um, is that the theater that's showing The Producers?"

"It's the only one that has tourists coming to it like flies on rotten meat." One of his perfectly dark eyebrows nearly quirked at me as if challenging me.

"I'm not a tourist." I stated to him. I saw the corner of his mouth turn up when he looked at my sweater then went back to his book. Looking down I realized why he probably thought that I was lying, being the middle of November I thought that it would be a great idea for me to wear the heaviest hoodie I owned; which just happened to be a whale watching sweat shirt I got from Hampton Beach when I was on vacation. Just curious, can it really be considered a vacation when it's literally with-in walking distance from your house? Yeah, I didn't think so either.

He shook his head while continuing to read his book.

"Be careful crossing the street Tourist, we like running people like you over." See what I mean, everyone's racist these days.

"Thanks, but your warning's a little bit late. I nearly got ran over five times already." Jackie you're REALLY not helping the cause. I could practically feel the pain of the smack down I'd give my-self later for saying that. I really have to think before I speak.

The guy smirked at me before announcing that he had to go and started leaving, amazingly enough he was headed towards the least sexy car on earth. It was silver; and really shiney with racing stripes and looked like it cost a small fortune. As I said, not sexy at all. Its door even went up instead of out, seriously get a car that isn't annoying.

Watching him zoom off and bizarrely enough not get any tickets I stalked back towards Opal a scowl clear on my face. She finished with her jell-O shots and started on the giant thing of Pocky she bought.

"Pocky?" I took the box ripped open a little baggy and just stuffed all of them in my mouth all at once. "You Missy are not getting anymore Pocky from me."

"Got any more chocolate?"

"I've got squid."

"Never mind, let's go. I know how to get to the Theater."

When we got there we stood in line searching for our classmates so we could sit with them at the theater. There wasn't a very large chance that we would find them, but you know we had to try. When we got to the door, and no joke I mean RIGHT when we got to those double doors that would be letting us watch one of the greatest musicals of all time a man wearing the noted outfit of all the employees at the theater stood in our way.

"Sorry Miss but we can't let you in."

"What are you talking about my tickets are right here. We have to join our-"

"Miss, you're not permitted to go into the auditorium until after we open the doors for after intermission." Opal looked at me then to the doors to the stupid teenager.

"Well we have our tickets, we got here what ten minutes late, can't you just make an exception?" I frantically asked holding out our tickets to him.

"Mr. Willis, welcome to the Boston Theater, can I help you with anything?" The man asked immediately switching his attention from us to the person standing behind us.

"Well I wondering if me and my two ladies here could get through," I started to turn around ready to give this bastard a piece of my mind for him calling me one of his 'lady friends' but when I saw who it was I couldn't speak, I'm actually I forgot how to breathe for a second.

"You!"

"I know the policy of how you're not supposed to let anyone through those doors, but I was hoping you would be willing to make an exception for me." I opened my mouth ready to bitch him out, because hey, I'm an eighteen year old girl and I don't like being referred as anyone's lady like they own me, or make it look like I'm easy, or a gold digger. Mostly the gold digger part.

"Of course Sir. Sorry Ladies for the inconvenience." I'm not sure what pissed me off more; the fact that he only let us through because we were with this ass, or if it was because the door man gave me that look that you could obviously translate to "Well she's a hooker". I didn't say anything, just glared at them. Let me just repeat myself. Going to Boston is only fun when A: You're at a hockey game between the Bruins and any Canadian team, or B: When someone sitting next to is really drunk. Let's pray to God there's someone extremely drunk in there. I wouldn't doubt it. We are in the Irish part of Boston after all.


End file.
